


Lust Royale

by lovelessinqueens



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 13:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17529419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelessinqueens/pseuds/lovelessinqueens
Summary: Simon Snow, the heir of the kingdom Aureum, is preparing to choose a bride, and seal his fate as king for good. However, the day before his wedding, his arch nemesis, Basil, manages to make him rethink everything….





	1. part one - once upon a time

part one - once upon a time

Simon sat in the throne room, unapologetically bored. It had been hours since he had entered, and it would be at least another until he was able to leave.

His mother had insisted that he meet every eligible princess in the kingdom.

“ _As the heir of Aureum, it’s about time you marry_ ,” she had said when she informed him of his duty to court a wife.

He had rolled his eyes at her. Simon’s mother had been nagging him about this for a while, now. He had avoided the topic the best he could. (The topic of marriage, that is.) The idea of searching for the perfect bride repulsed him. Besides, who would fall in love with Simon?

Simon, who would rather ride horses all day than sit through a Latin lesson. Simon, who much preferred practising his sword skills over dinners with royals from across the country. Simon, who saw himself as imperfect and unfit for the throne.

Besides, he has other things to worry about than finding a wife.

His father always reminded him of his inevitable battle against Basil, the heir of Morsu, the rival kingdom of Aureum.

It was practically fated that Simon would kill Baz. Both kingdoms knew this, and yet, nothing would stop the other from being prepared for this showdown. (Simon’s father had him trained at a very young age. As soon as he was old enough to wield a sword, he was given lessons by his father. Perhaps this was why Simon preferred his sword.)

Alongside Simon’s war duties were his duties to run a kingdom. And that required a wife, much to Simon’s dismay.

“ _Why can’t I just run the kingdom myself?_ ” he had asked his mother.

“ _Don’t be silly, Simon,_ ” she had said. “ _You can’t run the kingdom yourself._ ”

So Simon had allowed himself to be dragged to the throne room after breakfast, where girls were lined up to meet him. To win him over. To eventually _marry_ him.

Simon had been courteous all morning, and was slowly losing his charm. (Conveniently enough for him, the line of prospects was also decreasing steadily. Simon’s mum had begun to worry about this.)

Simon was less bored (and strangely, more charming) when Agatha walked in, to say the least. He sat straighter at the sight of her and held his chin higher. Simon’s mother, who watched from afar, was squealing with excitement.

Agatha, too, seemed more confident around Simon. They left the throne room shortly after being introduced. (The girls still in line were upset about this.) Simon showed her around the palace, and gave her a tour of the royal gardens. Agatha was enchanted by the pink roses Simon’s mother insisted on growing.

“Every year she makes the gardeners replant them,” he complained to her.

“So?” she shrugged. “I like them, they’re very pretty.”

 _So are you,_ Simon had thought to himself.

Later that evening, after Agatha had left, Simon’s mother cornered him, confronting him about her.

“What was she like?” she asked, steering him away from the dining hall.

“Mum,” Simon groaned. “Dinner!”

“What was she like?” his mother asked again.

“Good,” he answered.

Simon’s mother was ecstatic.

The next day it was known throughout the kingdom of Aureum that Prince Simon would be marrying Princess Agatha of Fatum. _Immediately._

Simon’s mother was insistent that he marry Agatha.

“ _There might not be a girl as perfect for you as her,_ ” she had pointed out.

“ _She’s not even that perfect for me,_ ” Simon muttered.

It took days of pestering Simon for him to agree on marrying Agatha (though, Simon was comforted by the fact that Agatha also seemed weary of their marriage). Chaos overtook the palace, as everyone rushed to prepare for the wedding, taking place in three days time.

Simon and Agatha spent their time together, strolling the palace grounds, hand-in-hand.

They both avoided the topic of their wedding, almost as if it was taboo, which to them it was. Neither of them wanted to get married.

“We’re too young,” Agatha had pointed out.

Simon laughed. “We have other duties,” he added.

“Besides,” Agatha said, pulling Simon down to sit on a marble bench. “I want to travel. I want to see the world.”

Simon gazed at her, pitifully. “And you can’t do that once we get married.”

She nodded at him.

\---

Simon was beginning to think that agreeing to marry Agatha was a bad idea.

He was swamped with duties, and had almost no time for himself. He was with Agatha _all the time_. Not that it was bad, being with Agatha. Simon felt crowded, and pressured by everyone.

Simon also felt lonely. Sure, he had Agatha now.

But Agatha didn’t understand Simon.

There was only one person that truly understood Simon.

It had took some convincing, but, his mother allowed him to leave the palace for a few hours. Simon was starting to think that she did it out of pity, but nonetheless, she gave him permission to leave.

Simon didn’t waste any time. He sprinted to the stables, and saddled his horse, and the two of them left the palace grounds. They traveled through the woods, all the way to one of the smaller villages in Aureum. Simon hopped off his horse once he got into town, then led it down the cobbled streets, until they were in front of a straw cottage.

He knocked on the door three times, then it swung open.

Penelope’s face greeted him as she ushered him inside. “Tea? Scones?”

Simon grinned at her. “Both.”

Penelope hurriedly brought Simon back a steaming mug of tea and a hot plate of scones, with a tray of butter on the side.

“Your big day is tomorrow,” Penelope said, sipping her own tea.

“Don’t remind me,” Simon grumbled, chewing on a scone. “It’s not like I’m excited for it, anyways. Just another one of my duties.”

Penny frowned at him. “Simon, it’s your wedding day! What’s there to be upset about?”

“My mother’s forcing me, that’s what.”

“I thought she let it go,” Penelope says, grabbing a scone off the plate.

“The whole marriage thing.” Simon shakes his head. “She’s only let up about it because I’m not complaining.”

“Why are you complaining?”

“I don’t love Agatha,” he sighed. “And I really don’t want to marry her tomorrow. I mean, it’s nothing against her. It’s, just….” Simon’s voice trails off.

Penny lays her hand on Simon’s buttery one. “You won’t be happy if you marry her.”

“My happiness doesn’t matter in this situation,” Simon sighed. “My kingdom does. And if that means marrying Agatha, then I’ll do it.”

Penny smiled at him, sadly.

They talked until they had made it through two batches of scones and tea. (Simon, the scones. Penny, the tea.)

By the time the second plate of scones was gone, Simon decided he better leave.

“It’s for the better,” he muttered, grabbing his cloak. “Mum’ll send out a search party if I don’t get home soon.”

“Come visit again,” Penny said, walking Simon to the door. “Bring Agatha!”

“Thank you, Pen,” Simon whispered in her ear. “Really.”


	2. part two - enemies in the woods

Basil was the person Simon expected to least see in the woods.

But there he was, the bastard, with his dark hair and pale skin, and rage-filled grey eyes.

Simon couldn’t help himself when he saw Baz. He slid off his horse and unsheathed his blade, as he marched over to where Basil stood.

“Look who’s come to save the day,” Baz taunted upon seeing the curly haired prince.

Simon gripped his sword tighter. “This ends here,” he declared through gritted teeth. “I have to kill you. We both know it.”

Baz, defenseless, turned and faced Simon. “So be it,” he sneered, raising his arms in surrender. “Kill me.”

Simon slowly made his way closer to Baz, his sword inches away from Baz’s chin.

“I have to kill you,” Simon said, again, his voice cracking.

“You just have to do it,” Baz suggested, his voice dry and sharp. “Just fucking strike me down, or whatever it is you do to every other creature you kill.”

Simon growled and held his blade closer to Baz’s chin.

“Why can’t I kill you?” Simon whispered, more to himself than Baz.

He hesitated. His eyes were staring down at his feet before they pulled themselves up, looking at Baz again. Baz, who was still inches away from Simon’s sword. Baz, who Simon had to kill.

Simon cleared his throat. “You know I’m going to have to kill you…” He paused for a moment. Baz was unreadable, so Simon continued. “...I just...I don’t think I can.”

Upon Baz’s face grew a horrified expression, before he managed to show nothing once again, almost like he was wearing a mask. Simon has been trying to kill him for years (especially the last ten minutes of both of their lives), and who knows if this is apart of his plan. Baz took a comforting step back from Simon’s sword.

“Why?” Baz whimpered, his palms starting to sweat.

“They...they want me to. I don’t want to, but, they’re making me,” Simon muttered, dropping his sword, and falling to his knees.

Baz, stood there for a moment, frozen, before walking over to where Simon knelt on the dirt floor. He reached out his hand for the now distressed prince, who took it gratefully.

“Thank you,” Baz said, once Simon was standing again.

Simon sheathed his blade. “Don’t mention it,” he murmured, shaking his head.

Baz looked at the troubled prince for a long moment. “Well,” he said, leaning against a tree, “what’s a prince like you doing out here, anyway?”

Simon hesitated. “I’m supposed to marry Agatha tomorrow.”

Baz couldn’t help but snicker at Simon.

“Hey!” Simon exclaimed, lightly punching Baz’s arm. “What’s wrong with me marrying Agatha?”

“Nothing,” Baz shrugged. “It’s just that you and Wellbelove don’t seem the most...compatible.”

“Who said anything about compatibility?” Simon asked, glaring at Baz.

“I’m just saying,” Baz says, “that you and Agatha aren’t alike.”

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” Simon huffed.

Baz went quiet. “No. And neither do I.”

“What d’you mean?” Simon asked, meeting Baz’s gaze.

“You know,” he said. “Royals marry royals. I’m still looking for a wife, though.”

Simon smiled at him. “You’re going to be a great husband someday.”

Baz simply nodded courteously at Simon.

\---

“I still don’t know why I have to kill you.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t kill me.”

“I can’t either,” Simon groaned. He walked over to Baz, and leaned up against the willow tree, next to him. “My parents are going to kill me.”

“You had an excellent opportunity, too,” Baz chuckled, glancing over at Simon.

He closed his eyes, grinning smugly. “It’s your lack of weapons, Basil. I’d never give anyone an unfair fight.”

“You’re _supposed_ to kill me, remember?”

Simon hummed in response.

“Well, I mean, it is your fate, isn’t it?” Baz said, turning to face Simon.

“What is?”

“To kill me.”

Simon opened an eye. “Bollocks,” he sighed, shaking his head, “all of it.”

“What d’you mean?”

“I mean…”

Simon’s eyes flickered down to Baz’s lips.

_Baz._

Baz, who had just laughed at something Simon had said.

Baz, who was standing across from him, grateful to still be alive.

Baz, who wasn’t nearly as bad as his father made him out to be.

Baz, whom Simon wanted.

No.

Simon can’t be thinking like this. Not with his family, and with royal politics, and especially not with Agatha.

But, maybe, he can think like this, if only for a moment…

“Maybe I don’t want to kill you,” Simon says, unable to stop the words that tumble out of his mouth.

And before Simon could figure out what he was doing, he hurriedly pressed his lips to Baz’s.

Baz froze when Simon’s lips met his, but only for a moment.

Simon quickly pulled away, only long enough to mumble a small “sorry,” before Baz pulled him back, weaving his fingers through Simon’s messy curls.

Their kisses were messy and hot, full of passion. Full of want. Full of everything Simon and Baz longed for, but could never have.

Baz pulled back this time, leaving their foreheads pressed together.

Simon reached down and grabbed Baz’s cold hands. “Wow.”

Baz laughed shakily, and laced his fingers with Simon’s. “Yeah. Wow.”

They stood like that, for a moment, the two princes. For once, they both felt free of all their duties and obligations, and of all that’s been expected from them.

“What now?” Simon asked Baz, his eyes full of worry.

“Simon,” Baz whispered, “you know we can’t do this.”

“What if I want to?” Simon protested.

“Simon, you’re getting married _tomorrow._ ”

“Fuck it, honestly.”

Baz exhaled, slowly out of frustration. “Simon, we have to be logical about this. We can’t make it work. You _know_ we can’t.”

“Two princes getting married isn’t a big deal!” Simon exclaimed.

“It is when your family is a stickler for the Old Ways!” Baz shot back.

“Baz,” Simon begged, “we can make this work! Us! We just have to try.”

Baz backed away from Simon, standing up straight. “No. We both have duties to attend to. You know this.”

“Fuck you Baz! I should’ve killed you when I had the chance!” he shouts behind him as he mounts his stallion.

“Simon, I’m sorry!”

“Fuck you, Baz!” Simon said, again. He spurred his horse on and dashed away into the greenery of the lush forest.

“Simon, I’m only doing this because I love you!”

But by the time Baz had finished his sentence, Simon was too far away to hear.


	3. part three - happily ever after

Simon’s ride back to the palace was long and tiresome. Strangely enough, he felt lonelier than he had before he left for Penelope’s.

There was Baz, for one thing. Baz, who Simon had _kissed._ (Simon hadn’t even kissed Agatha yet. And he’s marrying her!)

There was Penelope, for another. Penny, who would tell Simon he was off his rocker. He could hear her rationalizing the kiss in his head. ( _“You only kissed him because you don’t want to marry Agatha!”_ ) (He decided to ignore Penelope’s nagging voice.)

Simon took to isolating himself when he got home. He only left his room once, to eat dinner with his family, then returned to confinement in his quarters.

No one came to bother him.

"He needs rest for the wedding,” Simon’s mother had told everyone.

Simon wakes late the next morning, which resulted in a lecture from his mother at breakfast.

“You’re a prince, Simon. You can’t be late!”

Simon grunted, and angrily sipped his juice.

After breakfast, Simon took to wandering the palace as everyone else rushed around, finalizing everything for the wedding, just hours away.

The prince had thought that a good night’s sleep would rid him of all his worries, but, he woke up with the image of Baz still looming in his head.

Baz. Fucking Baz, the charming tosser. And his fated enemy, for Crowley’s sake!

Of course he had to go and kiss Baz.

But he was there. And Simon had wanted to.

He had _really_ wanted to.

Simon pushed Baz out of his mind the best he could, and tried to focus on Agatha. He has to marry Agatha. (Though, recent events have made Simon even more opposed to the wedding.)

He let his mother fuss over him, pushing him in his room, then out once in his uniform. She led him to the carriage, and together, they left for the chapel, where Simon’s fate would be sealed once and for all.

They arrived at the church, much sooner than Simon had wished, and before he knew it, he found himself standing at the altar, hundreds of eyes watching him gleefully.

He watched as Agatha walked down the aisle, the train of her dress dragging behind her. Agatha smiled at Simon when their eyes met. He gave a shy smile back.

When Agatha reached the front of the chapel, she stepped forward, and joined Simon where he was standing.

“Dearly Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Prince Simon and Princess Agatha in matrimony commended to be honorable among all; and therefore is not to be entered into lightly but reverently, passionately, lovingly and solemnly. Into this - these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together - let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

The room was silent. Simon’s heart was pounding in his chest, as he wished and prayed that someone would interrupt the wedding. To find a reason for him not to marry Agatha.

But, Simon realizes, there _is_ a reason.

Simon is in love with Baz.

“I can’t,” Simon finally said. He could hear his mother gasp from where she was sitting.

“Agatha, I’m sorry,” Simon said to her. “I can’t do this. To you, or to me.”

“It’s okay, Simon,” she assured. “Really. I wasn’t sure I was able to do this either.”

“Hey!” Simon laughed. She shrugged, and grinned at Simon, as he kissed her cheek.

Simon then took a breath, before running out of the church, leaving everyone inside confused.

Simon could hear his mother’s shoes clacking on the tile behind him. He kept walking, though, only stopping outside when he heard his mum’s voice.

“Simon, stop!” she cried out at him.

“Mum, you know I can’t marry Agatha.”

“But you have to!”

Simon sighed, and turned to face her. “Why?” he asked, throwing his hands up in frustration. “Because I have to?”

“You can only become king once you’ve married, Simon. Only then can you defeat Morsu.”

“Why do I have to defeat them? Because of an ill-fated treaty? That was years ago.”

“Morsu stole from us, Simon. They broke the truce.”

“They’ve since repaid us!”

“Simon,” his mother begged. “Please, you have to.”

Simon walked towards her, and grabbed her hands. “I’m sorry, Mother, but I can’t. I don’t love Agatha. I…”

He paused, for a moment. “I’m in love with someone else.”

Simon’s mother closed her eyes, before opening them again, and smiling at her son.

“Go on then,” she said, nodding Simon on.

Simon smiled back at her, and the two embraced.

“Thank you, Mother,” Simon said, as he ran off, away from the church. Away from Agatha, away from his father, away from his subjects.

He ran on, towards Baz.

\---

The ride to Morsu was longer than Simon had remembered. He had only been there once, with his father, on royal business. (Simon couldn’t remember any of that trip - perhaps because he slept the whole time.)

The two men standing guard at the gates reluctantly let Simon in. (Simon thought this was because he was supposed to be getting married.) He ignored their stares, and rushed onwards, to the palace doors. He slides off his horse, and runs inside the palace, scanning every corridor and room for Baz.

Simon found him in the library, violin tucked under his chin, bow held above it.

“Baz!”

Baz lowered the instrument, and set it down. “Simon? What happened to the-”

Simon rushed forward, cutting Baz off with a kiss. Baz indulged in it, only for a moment, before grabbing Simon’s shoulders and pushing him off.

“Simon,” Baz gasps, staring at him bewildered.

“It’s off,” Simon says, reaching for Baz’s hands, “the wedding’s off.”

“What? How?”

Simon shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, though. Nothing does, except you! Except us.”

“Simon, how can there be an us?” Baz sighed.

“I don’t know,” Simon admitted. “But, I’m willing to try if you are.”

Baz stared down at his feet, before meeting Simon’s eyes.

“You’re worth the fight.” Simon grinned at Baz, who pulled Simon forward and pressed their lips together.

“Simon Snow, no matter what, you’ll always be worth fighting for.”


End file.
